


a quiet place to burn

by fuckathena



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 12:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckathena/pseuds/fuckathena
Summary: the first time harry sees Louis, he’s glowing. glowing molten gold, and harry can’t help but stare from the other side on the room. his thin white robe leaves nothing to the imagination, and his delicate, fluffy white wings look small and intimidated by the people around them. Harry wants him; wants him like no other.But Louis is an angel, and Harry is a demon. how could they ever meet in the middle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> um, so i wrote this ages about and only just found it in my files. i’ve never really posted anything before but i just though this story was too cute not to upload. if you guys like it i’ll upload the rest idk.
> 
> Warning - incredibly mild description of torture

before there was light, there was darkness.

this was the maxim of The Underrealm, the self proclaimed creators of all. The Dark Master, ruler and leader, was one of the first beings to ever be created, and so had complete control over his subjects, his demons. his demons were vicious beings, who torture and laugh at the weak and feeble. mortals, mostly, although on the occasion a few angels slip from The Overrealm down to The Underrealm and are never able to escape; there only option being to submit and to become what demons think everyone should become: one of them. The Underrealm was dark and unforgiving and unfair. the sun was an unknown thing; they forever lived in the darkness.

The Overrealm is vastly different. golden rays of sunlight hit every nook and cranny of the land. the whole space was mostly gardens and greenery, with flowing rivers and waterfalls scattered about, never in the same place twice, forever moving. it was the land that angels roamed, in their full glory. their leader, The Heavenly Master, was an omnibenevolent soul. he only believed in love and peace. and so did his angels.

there was never common ground for these two groups to mingle; no one ever thought there would be. no one asked for it, or even thought of the very idea. but one day it just appeared, what they call The Middle. an area between both realms, a breach somewhere, connecting them together. angles rarely used the space, and the demons relished in it. waiting, patiently, for a wondering, curious angel to come through, just for a look, just so they could snatch them and take them to The Underrealm. where they would spent the rest of their eternity.

but that’s enough explaining, for now.

Harry, being a demon, enjoyed torturing people. that was his job, what he did everyday, so he was forced to like it. and he did. he liked seeing people beg, beg for their life before he set them on fire. he’s never really been sure why mortals beg for their life in hell, though, as they’re already dead.

still, its something to pass the time.

after having set seven people on fire today, he decides to take a well earned break. he heads to The Uneven Sign, his favourite pub in The Underrealm, and sits at the counter with a sigh.

“rough day?” the bartender and his close friend, Zayn, asks while cleaning a glass and pulling on a self behind him.

“not for me,” Harry replies “tortured the same man three times. unfortunate soul. although from his records he was a mass murderer so had it coming to him”

Zayn places a glass in front of Harry. cool, brown liquid inside of it. whiskey, Harry assumes, and downs it without thinking. the burn in his throat goes unnoticed.

“all in a days work” harry merely hums.

“you been to this The Middle yet?” Zayn asks, out of the blue “heard it’s quite the place”

Harry hasn’t been to The Middle. and doesn’t plan to. he knows what goes on, he’s not oblivious, and he doesn’t agree with it. they’re demons, they torture the souls of mortals; they don’t take defenceless angels and turn them into demons. or, at least in his mind, they shouldn’t.

he also knows that some demons keep angels as play-things. he’s thought about that a few times, but it’s never been enough to tempt him.

“me ‘nd Liam are planning to go tomorrow. at dusk. if you want to tag along”

harry thinks about it. and as he does, he feels the burn of the whiskey.

 

later that evening, after four more people get turned into red hot flames, Harry retires to his home. it’s a shabby, little, rickety building on its last legs. but Harry isn’t bothered much. he likes it. he keeps telling himself that.

located on the outskirts, its secluded and that’s what harry likes best; being alone. he keeps telling himself that, too. it allows him to think. and for most of the night he thinks about The Middle. and he thinks about angels. and when he thinks about angels, the thought never leaves his head.

Harry needs another drink.

 

the next day Harry had made up his mind. He would go to The Middle. out of pure curiosity, of course, and nothing to do with angels. Harry doesn’t like angels, doesn’t even think about them. he keeps telling himself that. he had the day to think about first, though, and groaned at the thought. sure, he loved torturing murderers and rapists and child molesters and such but doing it everyday was tiring. and his only ability was setting people alight. it gets repetitive; it gets boring.

though Harry can’t complain. setting people on fire, it’s a gift, from The Dark Master himself. so harry loves his power. he keeps telling himself that.

 

“please!” screams a poor souls from beneath him “please, let me live!”

Harry looks at him with a sly smirk on his face. he likes when they beg; it makes it more interesting. he usually lets the ones who beg stay a little longer, building up tension, like he’s going to let the soul go, only to then set them alight suddenly and relish in their screams as they disintegrate and get passed onto the next demon, who will torture them again.

it’s a cycle. never-ending.

both for the soul, and for the demons.

Harry tries not to think about how the angels probably have it easy; lounging around all day and giving gifts to each other.

Harry thinks he prefers torturing. he keeps telling himself that.

 

as dusk approaches, Harry meets Zayn and Liam outside The Uneven Sign. Zayn’s locking up, as Liam says something that makes them both give a laugh. Harry doesn’t register what was said.

they make their way to the entrance to The Middle. it’s sort of like a door in the middle on a mountain, but a big door with no actual door; a doorframe. and it’s like a portal, you can’t see what’s on the other side. Liam goes up to it and touches it, half expecting it to be hard but it’s not, the illusion wobbles.

“woah,” Zayn says “is it sticky?”

“what?” Liam replies “why would it be sticky, you idiot”

“it wobbled” that’s the only answer Liam gets.

Harry stays quiet.

“so, we just - walking though it?” Liam asks.

“i guess,” Zayn replies “you first”

“what? no! i touched it, so you can go first”

“why would you touching it first matter? just step through the bloody thing”

as Zayn and Liam continue to bicker, Harry walks over to the portal and walks through the portal.

what he sees is almost akin to a dream he once had. although he would pick reality any day. he shouldn’t have admitted that.

what he sees first as he steps throw the portal is sunlight. it stings his eyes, for a moment, but he gets used to it quickly. he may have never seen real sunlight before, but he’s imaged it so clearly.

that, and he lights people on fire for a living. he’s used to the torturous light.

The Middle, he supposes, is like earth. they have a day and night. sunlight and darkness. good and bad together, mixed, intertwined. Harry, for some unknown reason, feels lighter here. and it feels good.

before him there is a garden space. a pond in the middle and benches scattered around. colourful flowers all around, some with colours he’s never seen before and so does know the name. couldn’t even try to guess. in the distance he can see a village, or what he assumes to be one. colourful buildings bursting with life, shining. he can see it, even from where he is.

it makes his shack of a home look like a outhouse. Harry’s heart hurts a little. he didn’t even know he had one. he hears a sort of warping sound from behind him, and he assumes Zayn and Liam are the cause. He’s right, as he hears Zayn say “bloody hell, that’s bright”

Zayn’s power is asphyxiation.

so he hasn’t had the countless hours of preparation for this moment. not like Harry. Harry’s not even sure he wants to go back to the darkness now, now that’s he’s finally experienced glowing sunlight on his pale skin.

but he has no choice. he is a demon, and a demon should not be having these thoughts.

 

Zayn and Liam ignore the garden and head straight to the village, presumably to find a pub. Harry hasn’t seen any angels yet, and he shouldn’t be disappointed, but he is. he just wants to see one, even if it’s only the one time; a simple glance. he wants to know if the rumours are true, if they have wings and glow golden. he wants to see it. with his own eyes.

they find a pub and enter, and it smells - smells like The Uneven Sign. musky, the stench of alcohol there but not too overwhelming. its - it’s so normal.

Zayn and Liam chat about torture and demons - the usual - while Harry let’s his eyes wonder. there’s a creaking noise coming from about, most likely someone walking. not much happens for a while, and Harry lies his head of the table. paying no attention to anyone. the pub is filled with demons, no angels. there is a quiet hum of different groups conversing, and Harry can’t help but zero in on a certain one.

“d’ya hear about that sassy one? got a mouth on him, apparently, takes no shit from anyone”

“yeah, surprised no ones got him yet”

“it’s cus he’s small, and quick. bet i could catch him, though, ‘nd make him mine”

Harry zeros out again.

 

Harry must have fallen asleep, exhausted, because the next think he knew a glass of water had been thrown onto is head.

“what the fuck?” he exclaims but mainly to himself, pissed off he’s now all wet.

“it’s late. we’re going”

Zayn says.

“okay. didn’t need to throw water on me, though”

“but it was funny”

Zayn leaves, Liam must have already as he isn’t at the table. Harry stays for a moment. He’s in no rush. He loves his shabby home, he does, but he wants a few more moment here.

that’s when he sees him. he sees an angel. he’s glowing. glowing molten gold, and harry can’t help but stare from the other side on the room. his thin white robe leaves nothing to the imagination, and his delicate, fluffy white wings look small and intimidated by the demons around them. Harry wants him; wants him like no other.

there’s a sudden urge to go to him, a pull that almost physically hurts. they lock eyes, and Harry is met with icy blue eyes that he could get lost in; wants to get lost it. it’s irrational, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted. the angels hair looks so soft and perfect, a deep brown that would be akin to a teddy bear and Harry wants to know what it feels like. he doesn’t know why he’s thinking these things.

the angel goes back to talking to the demons around him, and Harry turns cold. air, he needs air.

so he goes outside. and then he goes back to The Underrealm. where he belongs. where he will always stay. it’s his favourite place. he keeps telling himself that.

 

as the next day comes around the urge to go back to The Middle arrises. it starts of slow, gently creeping, and as Harry finishes off his tenth and final victim for the day, he finds himself walking straight passed The Uneven Sign and towards the portal leading to The Middle.

Harry doesn’t know why, but he has to go back, to see him again, if he can, if it’s possible.

it’s like Harry is finally awake, and he so desperately doesn’t want to fall back asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “didn’t go back to The Middle then, eh?” Zayn asks, oblivious to the fact that Harry did in fact go back “was a bore anyway. wasn’t anything special”
> 
> Harry thinks about the angel he saw. he wants to disagree with Zayn, but doesn’t have the energy. he drinks the alcohol. it burns more than it should. Harry knows something was not right at that moment, but would never admit it. something was changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I’ve decided I’m going to upload the rest of this story. enjoy xoxoxo  
> (please excuse mistakes, i haven’t edited this yet)

Harry had never felt rain before.

in The Underrealm it never rained, it was only ever dark and misty and dry. and unbearably hot more often than not. and it was something Harry was used to; something he liked. he keeps telling himself that. 

but all Harry can think about in this moment is how good the rain feels upon his skin. it was as if it were washing all of his troubles away. and maybe Harry would let it. for a few moments longer, at least.

The Middle looks dreary today. of course it would, with the rain, but even so the flowers and plants look less vibrant than they did yesterday. 

Harry walks through the garden, paying attention to everything he’s sees; the blood red roses scattered in a thorn bush, the gentle circles on the pong caused by the rain. the ducks in said pond. much like the rain, Harry had never seen a duck before either.

come to think of it, Harry had never seen many animals before; mostly only snake and lizards and such. a few lions, too, which were used for torture. and Harry couldn’t think of many others. he wants to see more.

Harry sits by the pond, paying no attention to the wet grass beneath him. it’s nice; a nice contrast to what he’s used to and it’s strangely calming. the rain had stopped by this point. Harry was missing it.

a duck swims closer to the pond bank, closer to Harry so he can have a good look at it. the colouration of the bird was confusing to Harry; its head was an almost iridescent teal blue with a yellow beak, and it’s body a flurry of brown and white feathers. it had so much character, Harry thinks, way more that Harry had. Harry only wears black, and his hair was a deep brown. the only thing different was his green eyes. but he didn’t believe they were as vibrant as they were; he though they were more so a muddy green, battered and tired. what he didn’t know if that his eyes were more akin to shining emeralds. 

he doesn’t know how much time passes, alone and sitting by the pond. doesn’t register it, and doesn’t care for it. he’d even forgotten who he was, just for a euphoric second, before he had come to his senses. he can’t be thinking about that. he has to leave.

and so he does. and as he leaves he doesn’t notice the glowing gold watching him from afar.

 

 

when torturing, Harry loves seeing people in pain. loves to see them cry and whimper beneath him. and it had always been so.

but something, maybe in the air, was off today. he wakes up in the morning, and can’t seem to find the motivation to to his job. and when he thinks about setting people alight, his vision goes a little fuzzy. 

it’s not for long, ends as Harry rises from his cold bed and to the bathroom where he splashes lukewarm water onto his face, knocking him back into reality. he is a demon, and his job is to torture and he likes his job. he keeps telling himself that.

he’s still a little unhappy as he leaves him home.

 

 

later, at The Uneven Sign, Zayn asks Harry, “where d’ya go yesterday” while pouring whiskey into a glass and hand it to Harry.

“just wasn’t feeling great”

“didn’t go back to The Middle then, eh?” Zayn asks, oblivious to the fact that Harry did in fact go back “was a bore anyway. wasn’t anything special”

Harry thinks about the angel he saw. he wants to disagree with Zayn, but doesn’t have the energy. he drinks the alcohol. it burns more than it should. Harry knows something was not right at that moment, but would never admit it. something was changing.

 

Harry goes back to the portal, as if he were on auto-pilot. he doesn’t even know the portal was his destination until he was right in front of it, he could reach a arm out and he would touch it.

he hesitates for a moment, but enters anyway. he has to try again,  has to see the angel again, even if he won’t admit it. a demon shouldn’t be having theses thoughts. but Harry can’t seem to make them stop.

the garden is sunny again today. flowers vibrant once more, and Harry hears birdsongs. he sighs, breathing out, not realising he had held his breathe. doesn’t know when he started to.

“it’s you again” a voice, unwavering and strong, calls from the right of him. Harry turns a little too fast, and his met with probably the best sight he’s ever seen in his life. he’d admit that.

the angel, from the pub, is perched sitting upon a brick wall, only about four feet from the ground. he looks ethereal, Harry thinks, the golden glow almost blinding. but Harry is used to it. and he’s so glad he is.

the angel pouts ever so slightly and Harry can’t stop staring at him as he says “normally demons flinch when they see me. i’m blinding, apparently. but it doesn’t bother you”

Harry doesn’t know what to say, can’t say anything. he stays quiet.

the angel pushes off from the wall and walks towards Harry, so close to him Harry can smell him. he smells warm, like a campfire, like burning marshmallows and forrest wood. Harry likes it a little too much.

caught up in the smell of the angel in front of him, Harry doesn’t realise the angel lifting his foot and bringing it down, hard, upon Harry’s.

Harry yelps, quite pathetically for a demon, and looks at the angel with confusion and hurt. he thought they were meant to be gentle beings.

“that’s more like it” the angel goes to turn and leave, but Harry can’t have that. won’t, in fact, and grabs the angels small wrists. his skin is warm, and electrifying.

“what was that for?” Harry isn’t angry, per se, just curious and, though he would deny it, still a little in pain. he didn’t even know he could feel pain. maybe it was the effects of The Middle. yes, that was it, The   Middle. this almost heavenly place was the reason Harry was feeling the way he was; lost. he keeps telling himself that. 

the angel merely shrugs, innocently although with a smirk crossing his face and shakes his wrist, so shake off Harry’s grip. Harry doesn’t let up, holding ever so slightly tighter. not enough to hurt, but just enough to let the angel know he isn’t going anywhere. the angel notices this, his face wavering.

“let me go!” he shakes his wrist more viciously but Harry is experienced with beings acting like this. he knows his strength. the angel won’t get away. Harry likes the though more than he should.

panicked, the angel starts shouting louder, as if to alert someone, but there’s no one around. 

“let me go! please” the angel says, now quieter. his wrist stops shaking “please don’t take me”

Harry now understands why the angel was so afraid. he immediately releases his grip, the angel moving back. 

“i wouldn’t do that”

the angel says nothing.

“my name is Harry” is all Harry can give him at this moment. doesn’t know quite what to do, hasn’t experienced this before. has never had to comfort an angel.

the angel says nothing, and Harry notices the golden glow from around him had vanished. Harry misses it.

“‘s not an apology” 

“i didn’t do anything”

“yes, you did. you hurt me” the angel shows his wrist “it could be _broken_. and you’d have to be the one to explain it to the Heavenly Master”

Harry did not want to meet the Heavenly Master.

“i’m sorry”

“mhm. doesn’t sound... sincere” Harry sees the angel smirk, more prominent then the first time, like he’s playing with Harry “guess you’ll have to beg for my forgiveness”

Harry almost does, very much almost does, but remembers who his is. he is a torturer. he doesn’t do the begging. and he’ll never beg for anyone.

not even this angel, no matter how he makes him feel.

Harry gives a slight laugh, “that’ll never happen, _angel_ ” 

the angel pouts again, “don’t call me that. m’names Louis”

_Louis_ , Harry thinks. that name will never leave his head now. doesn’t think he wants it to.

“i hadn’t seen you before,” Louis suddenly says “before three days ago, at the pub”

“yeah, thought i’d... check it out” Harry chokes out.

“was it worth it?” 

_yes_ is what Harry immediately thinks. _yes_ , _yes_ , _yes_ , but votes against saying it aloud.

instead, he settles on: “perhaps,” Harry starts “a little... plain though. so... normal”

Louis agrees. 

Harry doesn’t want to leave, he truly doesn’t, but he has to. he has a job to do tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to get punished again if he fails to do so. and Harry loves to torture, truly does, so why wouldn’t he want to do his job. he keeps telling himself that. 

“i have to leave”

“back to the hellhole?” Louis smiles, for some reason, and his smile shoots sunbeams straight through Harry’s heart.

“it’s better than you would think”

“i try not to think about the hellhole at all, thank you very much” Louis retorts back, face hard before it softens again. Louis looks so pretty like that, Harry thinks unconsciously. “will you come back tomorrow?”

“what, you gonna miss me?” Harry teases, likes the way Louis’ mouth opens and closes as he struggles to say something.

“just curious” Louis settles on, even if it was forced out harshly, he didn’t intent it to be.

“we’ll see”

Harry leaves. and without him knowing, he leaves his heart too.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
